


The Promise of Redemption

by sleepylotus



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Norribeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7411328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylotus/pseuds/sleepylotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mid DMC, on the way to Isle las Cruces. Feeling rather guilty for her role in Norrington’s ruin, Elizabeth makes a peace offering to the former Commodore. Shameless Norribeth smut with a little sugar on top.</p><p>"For perhaps Elizabeth Swann had once been the rocks he’d crashed his vessel upon. But now, he dared think that something in her eyes may have been the Promise of Redemption…"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I. So, Norribeth, like real Norribeth (ok I know I fudged James’ character a little for my own designs in With This Ring) is a bit of a departure for me. I haven’t written for this ship in a LONG time, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. 
> 
> II. This is set at what seems to be my absolute favorite setting for POTC fics, the trip from Tortuga to the Isle las Cruces. For my purposes, let us pretend Elizabeth did not reveal the Letters to Jack.

# I.

 

Elizabeth Swann looked out at the glittering blue sea, drumming long fingers upon the blackened gunwale of the Pearl. A small smile curled her lips. A shy smile. Jack Sparrow was like no other man she’d ever encountered, and she couldn’t help but feel a little smug that he found her desirable. Anything more than flirting, of course, was out of the question. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his attention _a little._

James Norrington could not tear his eyes from Elizabeth for even a moment, it seemed. Not while he swabbed the deck, or while up in the rigging adjusting the sails. He’d spied her from all angles that day, it seemed, as he went about his duties aboard the Pearl.

And from all angles, she was still _stunning_ as ever.

He’d been across the ship when he heard their little exchange, and Sparrow’s barely veiled innuendo had turned his stomach. _Lizzy_ this and _Love_ that. The gall of that man! James clenched his fist, wishing he could slam it into Jack Sparrow’s wide array of gold teeth.

When Elizabeth finally stood at the rail alone, James found he could not resist approaching her. Once he’d been a bastion of restraint and self-control, but discipline on his ship ran rather lax as of late. He leaned back on the gunwale beside her, deadpanning, “Once upon a time I would have given _anything_ for you to look like that while thinking about me.” There was a distinct edge to his voice that he did not mean to let slip, but he had not had a drink in hours and everything was simply too _raw_ not to let some resentment out.

Elizabeth frowned, straightening as she gave James a sidelong glance. He appeared quite the rogue now, with his beard and shaggy dark hair. Inexplicably his unkempt appearance rather appealed to her, though she would have _died_ before she admitted she found him handsome. But something _hard_ glinted in his green eyes that she’d never noticed before. His uniform was in tatters, thrashed by the hurricane that sank his ship and his crew, and then further sullied by a vagrant life on Tortuga. Guilt stabbed at her, sharp as a rapier to the heart. James Norrington would never have come to such ruin if she had not broken his heart so thoroughly, _so publicly,_ that day on the Fort Charles battlements.

Elizabeth Swann did not like to feel guilt. Perhaps she had broken his heart, but it was not as though she’d known there was much of a heart to break before it was nearly done. She’d done what she’d felt was necessary. Was Will’s life worth so little? Didn’t she have the right to choose who she would have as her mate, regardless of her station or her father’s position? So what if she had her doubts about Will now, and was so very _relieved_ that their nuptials had been interrupted. At the time… _at the time_ it had all seemed quite necessary.

Yes, Elizabeth did not like guilt _at all_. It in turn made her defensive, sharpening her tongue to a deadly point.

“That’s funny, you certainly could have fooled me.”

James did not expect _that_ retort, she could tell by the indignant flash of his eyes. They were so _very_ green. How had she never noticed before?

“I beg your pardon?”

Elizabeth canted her head, turning to face James with a rather coquettish air. “I _said_ that I don’t think I even knew that you loved me, _James_ , until the moment you let me go. You certainly never told me. You never even courted me. You plotted with my father behind my back about my future with nary a word to _me_ about it. I thought I would be just another _fine thing_ for your collection of _achievements_.”

James couldn’t have appeared more stricken had she physically assaulted him. Still, after so long, she held his heart in her little palm. How _thoughtlessly_ she crushed it in her fist. James would have given a great deal for a bottle of rum right then. Anything, even alcohol induced stupor, was better than this wretched pain that would not cease in his chest.

He rose to his full height, and somehow appeared much taller in the foreboding storm that gathered about his countenance. “How can you _say_ that? I _loved_ you. I treated you with kindness and respect and sought to bestow you with the highest honor—”

Elizabeth interjected, poking a finger into his broad chest. “Yes, you were the _perfect_ gentleman. Polite and perfectly _cold_. But sometimes a lady likes a little passion, you know.”

“Indeed?”

Before she could react James grabbed her up with an arm about her waist, and pressed his lips to hers in a torrid and punishing kiss. At first Elizabeth struggled, pounding small fists upon his shoulders. But James bent her over his arm with his ardor, his lips and tongue laying siege to her mouth and her sense of reason. Soon rather than trying to push him away, her hands snaked about his neck, pulling him closer. The most damning little moan escaped her, and James relented a little, his tongue stroking hers invitingly. When at last he pulled away with a shuddering gasp he did not taunt her for the victory, all his venom dried up. He gazed upon her with the most haunting look in his green eyes, and Elizabeth felt her heart twist in her chest.

She saw it all.

His love, of which he’d never dared speak to her. His pain, his loss, and his absolute ruin. All at her hands. And _still_ , somehow, he loved her.

“ _Oh James_ ,” was the only thing she could bring herself to say, cupping his cheek in her small hand for the barest moment, before she turned on her heel and _fled._


	2. II.

# II.

 

Weary from two gruelingly long shifts on deck, James Norrington stumbled to his hammock, very much looking forward to collapsing into the oblivion of sleep. Usually it took a good dose of rum to quiet his overactive mind enough to doze, but surely he would be too tired to dream of Elizabeth this night?

 _After that kiss?_ the voices inside taunted him. _The first and only kiss you’ll ever have of her. Might as well relive it now, before you forget what it was like._

James sighed, a very annoying wetness welling in his eyes. Were the gods laughing at this farce? By what chance had he been placed on the stage _again_ with his sworn enemy _and_ his unrequited love? Surely his rival, Turner, would also come dancing into the picture at any time now. He would title this play _His Own Personal Hell._

 _And Heaven,_ that damnable voice whispered.

Well, that _kiss_ had been heaven, at least, but the aftermath was almost unbearable. He’d expected her to shove him off and slap him, as he well would have deserved. What a shameful rogue he’d become! What he had _not_ expected was for her to become liquid and pliant in his arms, moaning _maddeningly_ as his tongue tangled with hers.

The memory caused a hot flush to overtake him, and with annoyance he spread his hammock, determined to get some sleep.

A note lay in his berth, neatly folded.

With shaking hands he unfolded it, finding the words in a feminine slanting hand:

 

_Meet me in the hold._

It was a terrible idea. The absolute _worst_ thing he could possibly do for his sanity, not to mention his self-respect.

He went, of course.

With a lantern in hand he picked his way through the labyrinthine tangle that was the Pearl’s hold, a maze of crates and barrels and chests. She sat patiently in a dark corner upon a crate, so still he almost took her for a statue.

“Hello, James.”

Even in boy’s breeches and an absurd oversized shirt, her hair free about her shoulders, she took his breath away. Annoyed that she still affected him so, he retorted, “Don’t you think it’s a bit dangerous to encourage a secret rendez-vous in the hold of a pirate ship?”

He set down the lantern with a huff.

Elizabeth only smiled, a bewitching curl of lips that caused his heart to pound in his chest. “Why? Are you going to ravish me over a barrel, James?” she countered, eliciting the intended reaction.

James frowned, looking away with embarrassment, ashamed by his uncouth words and that he was titillated by the thought. “Of course _not_.”

“A shame, maybe, judging by the way you kissed me earlier.”

He looked up, his expression sharpened. This girl could not help but play with fire, it seemed. He drew a shaky breath, telling himself that she was only toying with him. “I cannot help but think you called me here for a _different_ reason.”

“I did.”

She slid down from her perch and withdrew a leather bound folio from inside her coat, extending it to him. Curious, he took the officious looking papers, opening them up. Immediately he recognized Letters of Marque and Reprisal. His eyes went wide and a little wild when he realized what he held in his hands. “Where the Devil did you get these?”

“I took them from Lord Beckett at gunpoint.”

“ _Naturally_.” James could not help it. He smiled _a little_. So fierce, his Elizabeth. How did he ever think he could tame her? “And what, pray tell, does this have to do with me?”

“I want you to have them.”

James went quiet for a long time, his mouth inexplicably dry. These Letters could mean some form of redemption for him, and it almost seemed too sweet to contemplate. “At what price?” he asked carefully, trying not to betray his excitement.

“No price,” she said quietly, looking down. “A gift.”

“ _Why?_ ” he demanded, suddenly a little dizzy on his feet.

“It seems the least I can do after ruining your life so totally.”

James sighed heavily. Suddenly it seemed _absurd_ to blame his current predicament on her, no matter how convenient. “Elizabeth…you did not ruin my life. I am a grown man, was an officer in the Royal Navy, entirely responsible for my own actions, and my own fate. Please don’t blame yourself.”

She laughed a little, though there was no happiness in it. “The Commodore James Norrington I knew never would have risked eight hundred lives at sea to sail into a storm after a pirate. I think you were not yourself, and for that I was _entirely_ to blame.”

Elizabeth had done some soul searching in the hours after James had so unceremoniously but quite passionately grabbed her up and kissed her silly. She had gone from anger to denial to a sad acceptance of her responsibility in a short time. This gamut left her feeling emotionally exhausted, a little adrift, and determined to make it right. And though small, this was _something_ she could offer him.

James squeezed closed his eyes, suddenly unable to hide the wave of raw misery that overcame him. “Elizabeth…” Her name sounded part prayer, part plea for mercy.

But she went on, her voice wavering for the first time. “And I’m _sorry_. I’m sorry for what I said earlier. You were always so kind and sweet and treated me with nothing but respect, and only a fool could not see that as love. You are a good man, James, and I _never_ deserved you.” She hung her head, hiding her face in her hands. When she felt James’ tentative touch at her shoulders she did not hesitate to lean against him, crying silent tears against his broad chest. Only the tremors in her willowy frame betrayed her, and James held her tight, as much a comfort to himself as it was to her.

He’d never held her before, he realized. He’d dreamed it a thousand times but never really had the opportunity to take her in his arms, except for maybe the time Sparrow had flung her at him in his mad bid for escape from the Port Royal docks. She was tall, but then so was he, and she felt small and delicate in the circle of his arms. It was _intoxicating,_ and when she turned her face up to his not a thing in the world could have stopped him from pressing his lips to hers. This kiss was different than before, lacking the ire and fury of a lover scorned, instead gently offering all his love and tenderness. He expected her to draw away at any moment, to smile apologetically and leave him in the shadows of the hold.

But she made the most _maddening_ little sound in the back of her throat, and he felt her body soften against his, melting like butter left out in the sun. Then she stood up on tiptoe, and the kiss became something _more,_ passionate but not angry, an exchange of heat and longing between two souls left adrift in the cold blue sea. Her little sounds became heady groans, and James was _helpless_ against her. His touch became more urgent, large hands snaking beneath her coat to grasp her waist, dragging up the ladder of her ribcage.

Her hands fisted the lapels of his coat, pulling him into her, their momentum only stopped by the hard edge of a large wooden crate. “Not _quite_ a barrel, but it will do,” she whispered between kisses with the most bewitching smile.

James’ eyes went wide as saucers. “Is _that_ what you think is happening now?”

“If you want.” It was another small olive branch she could offer him, she knew. Paltry as it may have been against the wreckage she’d made of his life, her body was the only other thing she had to offer James Norrington at the moment.

 _And, you want to,_ a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. It was very true. Ever since that torrid kiss her thoughts had oscillated between contrition and a most unexpected _desire._ Perhaps most telling of all, thoughts of Will did not intrude in her machinations even _once_.

“You would give yourself so freely?” He could not disguise the shock in his voice.

“ _Freely_ , but not indiscriminately,” she clarified with an amused little smile, looking his comely form up and down with appreciation. “That is, _if_ you want me.”

He shook his head at her, this brazen woman she had become, but was helpless when she pulled him into a kiss again. The sad fact was that he _did_ want her. She had driven him to the point where he would take anything she cared to give, even unwed coupling in a dirty cargo hold. He wasn’t a man who could be picky anymore. He did not have the fortitude for honor or restraint, anymore.

James pulled the coat from her shoulders, spreading it upon the crate behind her. The shirt she wore was loose and ill-fitting, and yet somehow left _no_ question as to the wonders that lay underneath. She arched against him as his lips trailed down her neck, sighing as his mouth blazed hot kisses across her chest. With large hands on her hind quarters he lifted her to sit upon the crate, and she could not help but purr as he further explored the curves of her hips and waist. The surprising strength in those hands made her _dizzy_ with desire. 

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he marveled, simultaneously appalled and impossibly aroused by her wanton response to his rough hands upon her. “ _An illicit liaison in the dank hold of a pirate ship._ I wanted to give you the best of _everything_. A grand home filled with servants to see to your every whim, so that these delicate hands need never know a callous.” He kissed her hands that were now quite rough. “Rooms filled with the finest furniture, and a window where you could sit and watch the sea while you waited for me to return home to you. You never wanted _any_ of it, did you?”

She paused, a hairline furrow appearing on her brow. “What about me made you think I would be content to sit and wait my life away by the window, when I would much rather be having adventures myself? But ladies don’t get to have adventures. Just babies. And boredom. Boredom in _spades_.”

Bitter laughter fell from James’ mouth, and he quelled it by nipping her shoulder, perhaps just a _hair_ too hard in his frustration. “ _Babies._ Once, a family with you was my fondest wish, you know. A strong and intelligent son to teach and to carry on his father’s name. A daughter to cherish and dote upon, sweet and beautiful like her mother.”

“I’m not sweet, James,” she warned him, even as the thought of such fine offspring tugged at her heartstrings. Children with tawny hair and green eyes pulling at her skirts, playing in the sand on the beach. A shell grasped in a fat fist, and a thread of laughter carried away on the wind. Annoyed by the sudden surge of sentiment, Elizabeth roughly pushed his own jacket from his shoulders. “I _never_ was.”

She almost believed it.

And yet try as she might, she was not immune to his words, and hearing him outline what had been his deepest hopes and dreams now broke her heart. She paused to hold him close, her lips upon his neck. “I wish you’d told me,” she said quietly. “I wish you’d said something. _Anything._ I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry I did not _see_ you.”

James’ hands slipped beneath her shirt, and she squirmed with pleasure as his rough fingers trailed over the curve of her spine. Impatiently he tugged at the bindings around her bosom, until the coil of linen fell loose around her waist, giving him access to the ripe fruits of her breasts. “I was the fool,” he rasped, pinching her nipples between his fingers lightly, growling as those long legs wrapped around his hips to pull him against her center. She could feel the hard length of his arousal straining against his breeches, and slowly he rolled his hips against hers, winning a cry. “I thought I would have all the time in the world to show you my passion, once we were married. I had thought it might be a pleasant surprise.” He kissed her deeply, tugging at the ties of her breeches all the while. “But as a man of the sea I should have known every moment was a gift. I should have grabbed you up every time I had the chance.”

Elizabeth smiled ruefully with the thought of how that might have been. A rasher James Norrington, so dashing in blue and gold uniform, spiriting her out to the garden between dances for a tryst at a society ball. Had he shown her his love then, deeper than the ocean and strong as heart of oak, had he _kissed_ her like this and touched her even a _little_ like so, she didn’t think she could have possibly withstood him. She would have followed him to the altar skipping all the way.

“ _Oh James_.” She kissed him, somehow managing to also loosen the ties of his own breeches, freeing him into her hands. His member was almost scalding hot, velvety to the touch, and larger than she expected. James tugged her boots and breeches away, somehow managing tenderness even now as he parted her thighs. Elizabeth sighed as he pressed against her, sliding up and down her maddeningly wet slit, the tip of him hovering above her entrance _just so_.

“But now this is all we have,” he lamented with some unexpected amusement. “Heated swiving in the moldery belly of the Black Pearl. Not in a _million_ years could I have guessed this outcome.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, unsuccessfully attempting to hide a smile. “ _Swiving,_ James? My, you _do_ sound like a pirate.”

“Like that, do you? And what if I told you I can’t wait to bury my big hard cock in your sweet little quim?”

She sighed shakily, undulating her hips against him, attempting to facilitate just that. “I would say that sounds _utterly_ delightful.”

James groaned, hanging his head to rest in the soft crook of her neck. He could stand it no more, and he gripped her narrow hips in his hands, sliding home with one powerful thrust. Elizabeth screamed a little, her nails digging into his shoulders painfully. With eyes wide he pulled back to regard her. “My God, this is your first time. Elizabeth, I’m so sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” she assured him through gritted teeth, even if it felt as though she’d been torn in two. But slowly the worst edge of the pain faded, and she relaxed against him. “Turns out I had not fallen _quite_ so far from grace as you thought, hmm?”

James frowned, furious at himself for hurting her, for _assuming_. By the way she’d acted he had not _fathomed_ that she could possibly remain un-plucked, and yet… “I’m sorry. I thought…I should have…”

Elizabeth hushed him with a kiss, and slowly began to move against him. It was tight, more than a little uncomfortable, and yet something in her body _hungered_ for this union. She wanted it more than she’d ever craved _anything,_ in fact, and as James slowly moved with her she realized he made her feel inexplicably _whole._

“I’m glad it was you,” she whispered in his ear, holding him close.

James made a sound between a sigh and a sob, his strong arms wrapped around her. For the first time in she didn’t know _how_ long Elizabeth realized she felt safe and secure and _complete,_ in James Norrington’s arms. The way he moved was utterly _fascinating,_ and she could not stop running her hands over his arms and his back, relishing the curve of his spine and firm buttocks as he thrust inside her. Just when she thought she could not be happier he insinuated a thumb between them, pressing upon her flesh in a way that made her _dizzy_ with pleasure.

“What are you… _oh._ ” Her head tilted back, and she could not even hold her eyes open, he disarmed her so completely with his touch. Slowly he stroked that nub of flesh at her center, causing something warm and crackling like lightning to build inside her. He melted her insides, drove her utterly mad. It got to the point where she did not think she could possibly _stand_ it anymore. “James?” she panted. “ _I can’t…”_

“Yes you can,” he assured her, slowing his pace just a little. “Let it take you. It’s alright, I’ve got you.” With arms locked around his neck she strained against him, striving to reach some unknown shimmering peak. When finally she exploded with ecstasy she muffled her cry in the bend of James’ neck, trembling in his arms as wave after wave of the most incredible sensation washed over her. It was all too much, and James followed close behind her, barely managing to withdraw in time to spill himself upon her thigh. Family had once been a fond wish, but now was a liability neither of them could afford. James shook as he came, her name on his lips like a prayer. _Elizabeth, Elizabeth, my sweet Elizabeth._

They lay in a tangle of limbs upon the crate for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes. When finally James propped himself up on elbows above her, a small smile pulling the corner of his mouth, Elizabeth waited for a smug retort, expecting the return of the smarmy fallen Royal Navy officer now that it was all said and done. But there was tenderness in his glittering green eyes, and he kissed her gently upon the lips. “I love you, Elizabeth.” She opened her mouth to answer, but he shushed her with a long finger upon her plump mouth. “I know you don’t love me, but please—”

Elizabeth freed herself by nipping at James’ finger, small white teeth flashing in the gloom of the hold. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me what I may or may not feel, James Norrington,” she retorted playfully, managing to render him utterly speechless. He straightened a little, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. A hope that would be the _death_ him if it was misplaced, and yet he simply could _not_ help himself.

“Elizabeth?”

She reached up to brush a dark lock of hair from his eyes, smiling softly. There was _something_ shining in her polished mahogany eyes. Something warm and filled with light. Something he’d never beheld there before. “My cabin is a _trifle_ more comfortable than this crate. Would you care to retire with me?” In truth it was little more than a glorified closet, but it afforded a small modicum of privacy. The most that could be had on board a pirate ship, at least.

In Elizabeth’s cabin they crammed on her tiny berth, James contorting his 6’1” frame in the most surprising ways all for the sake of making love once more to Elizabeth Swann. There was laughter and soft kisses, and this time it was gentle and slow, the way James had always wanted to take her the first time.

Afterwards he held her in his arms as she dozed, his own mind unable to rest. They would arrive at the Isle las Cruces on the morrow, and with a sea captain’s long-honed intuition for impending disaster, he felt certain the little island was the theatre where this conflict between Sparrow and Jones would come to a head. Naturally, they would all be tangled up in it. Perhaps Elizabeth trusted Sparrow, but James did not, and had no doubt the pirate would risk all their lives to his own ends. Holding the thing he’d wanted most for _years_ in his arms, James knew he would do whatever was necessary to see that Elizabeth Swann, and maybe even himself, lived to face another day.

For perhaps Elizabeth Swann had once been the rocks he’d crashed his vessel upon. But now, he dared think that _something_ in her eyes may have been the Promise of Redemption.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank you ever so kindly for reading and your comments! A little input on a fic I worked hard on always makes my day!


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